


Solitude

by IncompleteWithoutLife



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Angst, F/F, Romance, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-23 08:46:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17077112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncompleteWithoutLife/pseuds/IncompleteWithoutLife
Summary: "Whosoever is delighted by solitude is either a wild beast or a god." - Aristotle





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just another story. Different from White—*cough, cough* other story that a lot of individuals ripped into. Changed the style of writing for this one, which isn't so hard as I thought it'd be. Alright it was really hard to, but eh, who cares how many days I spent trying to.
> 
> Time leap next chapter and I think you'll (maybe) like the flip of the script I have planned. It'll sorta kind, maybe not so much follow the books/movie.
> 
> But. Alice has visions, and her visions are much more vivid than most like to indulge her with.

_**Checkmate** _

Solitude was, harmonious, and tranquil—an embodiment of her. A moment in which she could dwell on the emptiness that elucidated her life ("her second death.") Seclusion was all that the universe had to offer her while her blood was still warm, oh how the reverence of that stillness calls to her. Quiet and hallow; a solace from the pain that had erupted with her murder. Death, she found, was a liberty because it offered much more than desolation that life itself could only give. She delved into the infatuation of aloneness far too often for it to be deemed an activity but submerged into it far too many times for it not to be a livelihood.

Death had accepted her with the warmth of solitude (no more screams, even more silent than her pleas, far more serene than her hurt.) And it had been divine, but only momentary. He had replaced the silence, her white noise with a fire hellbent on ruination, her savior had her part with death. Ripped her from the space of alone and thrust her into the arms of another death—only this one was not as giving.

"Rose?"

Rosalie draws her attention from the paved road and onto her family. Tentative smiles peer at her with acceptance and empathy. A pain of her own reflective in the eight pair of honey orbs cautious of her.

She removes herself from the perch atop her polished convertible and inclines her head mutely. Silence offers much more than the devastation of them and the scene of them all. (Hands firmly complacent in their respective partners hand. Souls content in this 'life.') They take to her reverence for silence willfully. And they all lead her towards the cafeteria with low murmurs to themselves on the casual conversation about some new student meant to be here today.

Forks, she deemed, was ordinarily stifled by plain occurrences. It rained, rained, and continued on with an occasional sunny afternoon; of which often lead to an evening of rain. If the dreary clouds did not dampen her mood, then surly it was the overly optimistic townsmen that insisted on over compensating for their drab weather. They had not created a façade, but more of an insistent candor—the people here were, very much open, but only in a reserved manner.

(Forks also gave her seclusion in its own right.)

A wave of venom pooled into her mouth once they entered the well assembled cafeteria. It provided her with the putrid smell she despised more than any. Blood. It was a melodic call to her, but it seemed so bleak and vile with her history with it.

"Oh, there she is." Alice whispers so only the small group could hear. "She's…"

"Plain? Human?" Emmett offers with a small chuckle.

Rosalie lifts her head at the fresh scent as her nostrils flare at the novel aroma, however potent and unusual, she does not meet the scene that would arrive with the smell. Instead her stare remains constant as her eyes trace the specs of dirt lining the tiled floor, but her ears selectively open in piqued interest while the chatter of the cafeteria had hushed substantially with their arrival. Still. She precisely identifies the conversation she'd intended to find.

"You've noticed the actual beauty of the student body…Those are the Cullens. The shortest one who looks like she's about to implode with happiness is Alice, the one next to her who looks like he's in physical pain is Jasper, and the other one who looked like someone pissed in his cereal is Edward—"

"What's—who's the blonde?" Rosalie flinches at the contentment in the overly meek voice, or maybe it's the ambivalent timber hidden in the low inquiry.

"Oh' that 'goddess' is Rosalie. She doesn't talk much but when she does, she can be an absolute bitch."

Her lips curl into an entertained smile at the bitter comment. And she returns her attention to her own table as a sardonic chortle ensues from her coven. The chatter from the table she'd been invasive to shifts onto a new topic as she toys with an apple Edward had rolled to her in the midst of it all.

"I think that's your cue to turn down the animosity Rosalie and Edward." Alice advises easily.

Edward settles the small vampire with a bored stare, and her own shoulders lift noncommittally. The reactions elicit a cackle from Emmett and a strained but honest smile from Jasper. The innocuous educes the spat she apathetically listens to as the table share trivial barb with one another.

" _Rosalie._ "

Her neck cranes towards the whisper of her name, head tilted deliberately in the direction of her caller. She observes a plain thick sweater, washed jeans, and dirty converse. A gently sloped nose, pale but lively cheeks, dark brown hair, and a dainty unadorned frame is all that she accounts for. Then her stare is matched mutely—doe eyes meet her own contrite and sad. She finds a vacancy in their peer, and it makes her shiver. The heartbeat controverted the evenness within the dilated pupils, erratic and loud. Some sort of beauty exudes from the modest human, a memorably plain beauty. Rosalie expels the contest with a flat breath and strict eyes.

A bitter chuckle resounds, void of all valid amusement, it shares an ironic emptiness to any who dares listen.

_..._

Alice tilts her head deliberately. Stare aimlessly defiant in the rather apprehensive blonde, though she had not contributed to the future, yet. The smaller woman blinks, shoulders hiking at the eerily silent pair. She observers both human and vampire alike in many ways they wouldn't have yet the bravery to speak upon until much later.

* * *

 

_Settle down. An affirmation she'd created for a purpose: "It will all prove to be futile. The pain, if you cannot settle down." Her mind may tame her compulsive behavior, only—only, her emotions will irrevocably sway her decisions if granted an opportunistic moment. And it so occurs by happenstance that a pale-pink lip tucked innocently between pearly teeth elicits a feeble whine (left soundly) from her throat; her tender soul howling._

_Momentarily stunted, she nearly miscalculated the patent brilliance poured into the move._

_A white knight is left out in the open: queen surrendered hopelessly, a hapless pawn open to be victimized, only if she will dare to relinquish her own Rook, Bishop, and queen for the sake of one or the other sacrificed. One mere move that will devastate her ideal scheme. Brow arched, and spine poised to formulate a plausible retaliation._

_Rosalie blinks, squints, and at once flicks her mind between the one piece and that deliberated lip—her King is thwarted._

_"Checkmate."_

_Comes a hoarse, and firm timbre._

_Rosalie dares to venture to the oblivious innocence, and the sheer verbosity of that virtuous countenance stealthily hinders her; ineluctably her honey orbs morph into dark irises, pupils dilating. Dark embers peer at her from below thick eyelashes, and that warrantless lip bite returns. The tinged cheeks prickled with a certain blush helps none as brunette locks are brushed behind an ear shyly. A smile coquettish smile toys with her lips, as she settles into her seat in entertained defeat._

_"Bested by a mere human," Rosalie tisk' heartily. "What exactly are the telling's of my character?"_

_Bella blinks, but a warm grin spreads onto her face, reaching her eyes brilliantly._

_"That maybe you're more prone to distraction than you initially realize." Bella retorts lowly._

_Rosalie blinks, blinks, once more, and becomes wholly ruined by the intentional tongue peeking out to moisten a worried bottom lip. Mouth parted in ways of perplexed senselessness, the blonde vampire shifts in a fabricated poise. Although she does intend to permit her involved eyes to remain downcast, to further highlight the red painting the human's cheeks; ears firmly pleased by the clamor about the erratic heartbeat. Rosalie supposes she should take pity on her mate, who clears her throat absurdly loud. She heaves a nostalgic breath. Relenting in her amusement._

_They do not part with the heated stare._

_"Best two out of three?"_

_"Of course."_

_Bella laughs, a loud laugh, at the instant reply. Settling her pieces back into place, Bella tears her eyes away from the blonde._

_"Try not to get distracted this time," Bella murmurs slyly. "I'd like to beat you with no excuses."_

_It's Rosalie's opportunity to laugh honestly,and she takes to it easily._

_Checkmate indeed._

* * *

 

Alice anxiously taps her fingers on the table before her, bottom lip tucked underneath her teeth habitually. And Rosalie, one who voluntarily thrives from seclusion, peers at her tapping fingers blankly. She will, Rosalie, has already felt that her solitude is threatened. By whom, she has yet to identify.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I put some scenes off for another chapter...
> 
> [Insert] - Time skip.

_**Her** _

Rosalie sidles besides the small vampire mutely as said companion enlightens her on the future of yet another human. Ears tuned to her adoptive sister: mouth set into a firm scowl, pupils overblown into coal, binder violently clutched in her hand, an internal heaviness set into her bones.

Alice, was, _is_ an individual with such a lively character that none could but merely adore her—yet, admire with a fine resentment towards her turbulent intentions. Rosalie had deducted such once she’d become well acquainted with her intrusive interference with the future alone. It’s innocent (pure and refined _connotation_ wise,) but Alice _spoke_ far too much. Often rapidly on a spiel about a particular event that’s not yet occurred, and Rosalie believes it causes a beautiful ruination in a sense. While one would find it to be a positive to learn of the endless outcomes of the future, it certainly redefines the ability, the right, to act on the variability of the future. Alice was: invasive, often childish, more idealistic rather than realistic, but if not those distinct traits, then there would be no Alice that she has come to care for.

“He’ll soon be swept of his feet by the woman of his momentary dreams. Literally, or I guess you can—"

Rosalie sticks her hand out instinctively, attention still stuck on Alice (an intuitive sadness follows her movements.) She merely peers at the steel thermos she’d caught before it could make a ruckus about the halls.

And a heartbeat resonates in her ears, full, and deep.

Her lips curl into a faint smile as she hears’ the fitful beat. ‘ _Somehow she believes they've both been disturbed from their respective peace. Only this instance is defined, and trivial, (momentarily she’s wholly thrust into an abyss of incertitude.)_ ’ But the upturn of her mouth disappears quickly, replaced by curiosity.

Her stare finally settles on the human she’d saved from the embarrassment from their peers, and her left eyebrow is hitched involuntarily as she’s met with a pair of familiar eyes. Pale fingers gently pry the thermos from her hands.

“I—Uhm,” Bella exhales softly. “Thanks.”

Rosalie blinks, all interest erased as the human flicks her gaze to the ground. She becomes bored ( _sad_ ,) as those murky brown orbs aimlessly stare at the porcelain tiles.

“Hi Bella!” Alice chirps into the eerie silence.

Bella, two weeks into her arrival, scratches nervously at the back of her neck. And Rosalie frowns, hard lines etched into her face.

“ _Oh_...uh, Hey.”

Alice beams at the human and Rosalie can decipher that the tiny vampire already finds the human endearing in a way, and it unsettles her.

“We’ve never had the opportunity to properly introduce ourselves but I’m Alice, and this is…”

A beat of silence overcomes the trio, as the two brunettes stare at the blonde expectantly. Rosalie, stiff and disinterested, inclines her head at the human plainly. And too swift, far too quick for even her inhuman eyes to discern, a quirk of the brunette’s lips occurs (it’s over soon, and she finds that maybe she’d witnessed a delusion.)

“That’s fine. I need to head to class but,” Bella shuts her locker and turns around with a blank mien. “Thank you, _Rosalie_. I’ll see you guys around?”

Rosalie _breathes_ —nostrils deliberate, while taking on the emphatic air, and she’s upset at the residue scent that the brunette has leaves. Her hands flex (apprehensive, and trepidatious) as she peers at the form of the brunette winding around the sea of scurrying bodies albeit clumsily. However, the blonde displaces the unease and swivels around, on trek towards her initial route.

“Well isn’t she just precious Rose?”

Rosalie flips her shoulders apathetically.

“I would hardly call a human precious Alice, especially one as plain as her.”

(Alice, adoring peer, perceives the hint from the blonde: the despondent fall of her shoulders, parted mouth in awe, an idle stare, and the softened aura. It’s a noticeable disparity from the saddened vampire from two weeks prior. A prickle exterior exudes from the blonde.)

(The sorrow from the past will carry a sorrow however many decades occur, but it _can_ be dampened.)

...

It's silence that she has honed in on, despite the perpetual prattle in the cafeteria. A melancholic proficiency that'd she'd refined within her. Over the years she's had the time to ruminate, and while there will be an eternal occurrence about her thoughts, deliberating has grown rather dull. Her mind had a focal point, and it remained adamant on death; be it her own, the lives she'd taken, or another’s and their potent scent. It was an endless cycle that's been apparent for decades.

Thus, she brought forth a silence into existence; thick, soundless, and a fixture of herself. A moment in which she deluded herself that none of this world would be able to shatter her distorted hush. Rosalie believed in her citadel, and it has not yet failed her until she had her bid of silence from how clamorous humanity proved to be.

A beacon, warm, loud, and easily contented—destroyed her, and her abstract place. Rosalie lifts her head perplexed by the sudden sound, body involuntarily shifts towards the source. Innocently enough it was laughter. One she hadn't heard before, husky, deep, but far too feminine to be male. And once she flips her head to the left, her features harden. Rosy cheeks, dark hair, tired but (brilliant) eyes, and of whom is an ordinary human. Of which appeared to have had recently or will soon catch a cold.

The laughter dissolves into a fit of coughs, and an uncomfortable chuckle comes from that human.

Rosalie observes the sick teen slyly. Crinkle appearing about the corners of her eyes as Bella smiles softly at some blonde haired boy patting her back, Rosalie huffs. Irritation settles within her at the truth that some flimsy human could dispel her silence with a coarse laugh.

* * *

 

She inhales the crisp wind easily—a contentment quivering within her once the acute scents halt her ability to breath properly without difficulty. Autumn had always been her favored season, there was this rather innocent perspective on the scene before her. Fallen leaves, all with various interpretations of a rustic hue, bundled bodies on an endeavor for shelter from the chill of the afternoon and the simple aridness of everyone who opposed the abundant three months. She found it rather tranquil to stand within the ferocity of its winds and the peculiarity it invoked

Only the peace is shattered, because she hears a familiar truck, a stutter about the failing alternator. Her lips break into a low tisk' as the sound has grown incredibly unpleasant over the last few days. It was only two weeks into the school year, and she was already tiresome of the brunette.

Still.

_This_ has become a habitual occurrence; she stalls,  _waits_ , for the teen to leave the confinement of that atrocious vehicle. Her nostrils flare while the wind tenderly blows a thick scent into her space, and she shivers. And it's without reservation that a torrent of venom leaks into her mouth. Once her stare encounters the human in all her essence, Rosalie falters from what was meant to only be a swift glance. It had only been one year, but the human had become eminent. An ambience of conviction outlaid the teen, she had returned from the summer  _anew_. Hair, body, and all—however it did not compare to the novel presence the human now exudes. Bella was far from the meek individual from a year prior, and there was an aura, some distinctive feature that not even Rosalie could perceive.

And the stare (warm, blank, and vile in every sense.) Bella would  _stare_. A recurrence from last year, but it remained steady, a dissonance about the way in which the human would peer at her with. However vicious, and resentful her own look would seem, Bella's stare remained oddly constant.

Rosalie bristles, attentive as the brunette trips on her way down from the truck. Her own eyes roll once Bella turns a harsh shade of red and visibly peers around to find if anyone had taken notice, unobservant and satisfied once no culprit was found.

_This_ is the human that wholly mystifies her.

Rosalie sneers lowly.

"Idiot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie is...gonna get there.

**Author's Note:**

> Blank


End file.
